


Waiting in Perpetuity

by Upupanyway



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, M/M, More of this shit, Pining, Requited Love, but like 5 years, long term pining, my usual fluff bull, rated for an off screen sex scene, very tame otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 00:37:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20985917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Upupanyway/pseuds/Upupanyway
Summary: Foggy very clearly as a thing for mature types. Matt, well, he's just some lost kid.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> something to tide me over i guess (i refuse to let mattfoggy die)

In the late spring of 2005, Matthew Murdock was a fresh high school graduate stepping onto the campus of Columbia University. The fading August air was a lazy droll, and there was bustling about as everyone settled into their dorms.

Matt had all of his worldly possessions in one bag, slung around his shoulder. He whistled a happy little tune as he made his way across the busy courtyard, the old brick buildings that smelled like moss and freshly clipped foliage, the rowdy dormitory full of hormones and anxiety and laughter.

“Room 312?” he called into the space. A man had been cursing his laptop when Matt walked in.

“Yeah,” said the man, absently, as he was still concentrating very hard in the direction of the computer. Evidently, whatever was happening on the screen was more interesting than meeting a stranger he would be living with for the better part of the next year. Then, a triumphant moment and exuberant cheer filled Matt’s ears.

“Um, what?” Matt asked, placing his bag on the bed. He wasn’t expecting a new best friend or anything, but he didn’t think he could make it if he was simply ignored for the entirety of the term.

"I just got into Punjabi!" The man exclaimed, running up to high five Matt. Matt waited a beat and stayed still. “Oh, um, shit,” his new roommate faltered. “I’m holding my hand up for a high five.”

Matt rolled his eyes and held up his hand, which his new roommate slapped in the air.

“Hell yeah!” he said, excitedly. “I’m Foggy, by the way.”

“Are you?” Matt asked, a little snippy despite himself. He was supposed to be making a good impression, damn it.

The man, Foggy, didn’t take the bait. “Yep, foggy as they come, but I made it to Columbia eventually. It’s also my name.” Foggy made his way back to his already warm bed and turned his attention back to the laptop.

Matt started unpacking. “Matt. I’m Matt," he said.

"Hey, nice to meet you." Foggy went back to whatever he was doing beforehand. It was as auspicious a start as any.

-

Over time, Matt had started to warm up to Foggy. Some of his habits were appalling, but they were still in college and Foggy wasn't any more egregious than anyone else on the floor. He'd likely grow out of it, and anything that was a true hindrance to Matt was easily corrected with a glare and a stern word or two.

Matt didn’t even dislike him or anything. His roommate was fun and witty conversationalist with a strong sense of morality, and he was maybe the most generous guy Matt had ever met. The path to friendship was laid out before him, and Matt found himself content with the direction they were going.

Foggy also bought alcohol sometimes. It wasn't an unusual addition to their fridge by any means. Sure, Matt didn't have a lot of experience with it, and he found himself curious on more than one occasion, but Foggy never offered, so he never took any. Foggy was more than eager to share other things, though, and Matt doubted his roommate would mind. So, one night, just after a midterm, he let his finger trail the top of a six-pack and cracked open one of the Budweisers. Curiously, he raised the can to his lips.

"Stop!" he heard. Matt stilled his drink in confusion. Foggy rushed out of his desk chair and into their little kitchenette.

"Why?" Matt questioned, drink still paused mid-air.

"That’s beer, Matt! You're still underage! I can't just let you drink in front of me!" Foggy said simply. He took the can from Matt and set it down on their counter. Then, he stuck a finger right to Matt's nose. "Your brain is still developing and I won't stand idly by as you ruin it!"

Matt scoffed and batted the hand away. "You started drinking when you were  _ sixteen _ . And besides, brains peak at twenty-five and last I checked, twenty-two is still just shy," Matt argued, reaching around Foggy to steal the beer once again. Smugly, he brought the can to his lips and took a sip.

It tasted awful. It really was Matt's first drink, come to think of it. Catholic education didn't really prepare him for  _ beer _ .

"You don't even like it!" Foggy whined, crossing his arms.

"I do!" lied Matt, swirling the drink in his hand and worsening the smell. Stoically, he took another draft and coughed.

Foggy chuckled at him and ruffled his hair. "It's an acquired taste," Foggy told him as he walked over to the fridge to grab a can for himself. With a crisp pop, he opened his own fizzing can and bumped it to Matt's. "Cheers," he said, taking a long gulp.

"What are you doing?" Matt asked, genuine confusion finding his features.

"Underage drinking is a lot more fun with a buddy. If we're gonna get hammered, we're doing it together."

Matt felt himself smiling, his face moving of its own accord. It may have been the alcohol, but something warm and fuzzy settled in his gut just then.

-

Foggy dated a lot. Men, women, beyond. They didn't stay, despite Foggy's best efforts. All of them, when they came to the dorm for a visit, would take one look at Matt and start awwing and oohing as if he were some pet that Foggy kept around.

"He's a baby!" One of them said. Matt couldn't quite remember his name. Brandon or Bradley or Bedford. Something or other. Matt sighed from his chair and the new guy’s leather shoes clacked about the space. A fine wool met Matt’s nose. Some yuppie, then.

"I'm not going to dignify that," Matt shot back. Foggy was just behind the annoying new guy and locking their door behind them.

"Don't be rude, Benny. He's sensitive about his age." Foggy was also teasing and his tone was light as it grated Matt's ears. "He's a big boy."

"He has a wicked babyface, then. Does he know?" Benny cooed.

"He's eighteen. He's just like that." Foggy shrugged and led Benny inside, letting him sit on his bed.

"I'm nearly a decade older than him! God, was I that young when I was his age? I could have sworn I was older." Benny settled comfortably in Foggy's space, as if he belonged there, and the pencil Matt had been holding somehow snapped in two.

"I'm right here, you know. I can hear you," Matt grit out.

"Sorry, Matty. You really are cute, though," Foggy assured seriously, reaching over to ruffle Matt's hair before taking a seat in Benny's lap. Matt turned around so that they wouldn't see his scowl.

"Thanks." He put his ear buds in and tried to ignore the sound of kissing and soft, tender whispers emanating from behind him. He had articles to read.

-

Near the end of that term, Matt had an interview for a summer job. Nothing too fancy, but it involved some clerical work and he knew that that office would be mostly put off 40somethings who loved nothing in the world except their wives and their dogs.

Matt struggled with his tie for far longer than appropriate before anyone did anything about it. 

"Here, let me get that for you," Foggy said, finally. He sounded like he was fighting an affectionate chortle. Matt batted his hands away because he was a grown man and he could figure it out himself.

Foggy laughed at him. "Dude, I get it. It's okay, I'll show you how." Foggy grabbed Matt's hands and generously narrated his way through tying a tie. There were lots of fingers involved, but Matt tried to take mental notes, anyway.

When they were done, Foggy tapped him twice on the chest with an open and friendly palm, said, "Alright, you're good to go! Good luck, Matt," and walked back over to his desk.

Matt muttered a word of thanks and made his perfunctory way out the door, locking it behind him.

On the subway and in the interview, Matt kept tracing his own hand where Foggy's had been, face heating at the memory of them, heavy and confident, around his neck and chest. He aced the interview, but he could tell he was pretty fucked otherwise.

-

They had agreed to keep rooming together through the summer and the next semester. They found a decent enough place near the station in some basement that smelled like mold and vinegar, but it had two whole bedrooms and a gym less than a block away, so they made do.

They moved in together, and they set up movable braille magnets on their fridge to write each other poetry and passive aggressive notes about the dishes and laundry. They bought a secondhand couch from a shifty guy online who was definitely hiding a knife in his jacket but laughed at Foggy's jokes and swore the stains would wash out. They bought a cheap throw for said couch. They got plants for the living room. They spent an entire week, between work and sleep, thoroughly washing every nook and cranny of the place.

At the end of it, when Matt collapsed on the floor, face down and exhausted, Foggy surprised Matt with a cake and some candles.

"Happy birthday, buddy," he said, nudging Matt with his bare foot. Carefully, he placed the cake on their coffee table, which they picked up for three whole dollars at a garage sale, though Matt had thoroughly sanded and repolished it.

They did some spectacular work, increasing the value of the property, which now smelled like "ocean spring" scented detergent and warm spices. It also smelled like Matt and Foggy, because it was their home. And now, it smelled like cheap candles and fancy Japanese chiffon cake, which Matt knew was at least a 20 minute commute away.

"Is it?" Matt groaned. His arms were sore from moving furniture around and his knees were sore from scrubbing the hardwood.

"Yeah. Sorry I couldn't plan anything bigger, but I've noticed you don't really like parties much."

Matt remembered the mess of Foggy's birthday, when they had rented a place just for a house party. It was so loud and so many people were all over Foggy, so Matt brought a bottle of tequila upstairs to one of the unused bedrooms to commiserate.

Foggy did eventually find him, thirty whole minutes after he disappeared. Then, like it was the easiest thing in the world to miss his own party, Foggy plopped down beside Matt on the naked and dusty mattress and kept him company. They fell asleep together until they had to check out at noon the next day.

"Thanks, Foggy. You really are the best," Matt said genuinely, struggling into an upright position in front of the cake.

Foggy sang to him, and Matt blew out the candles. Childish as it was, he did make a wish. Or rather, he voiced a hope inside his own brain and let himself admit to some things for the first time. He was nineteen, now. And a man ought to be able to be honest with himself.

They ate the entire cake together, sharing in a sugar high. Foggy brought him in for an affectionate noogie that left Matt breathless and laughing. Matt indulged a little, resting his head on Foggy's lap to talk nonsense late into the night.

-

By the fifth or sixth fling, it was pretty clear to Matt that Foggy had a type. He didn't even think Foggy knew what it was, but he always ended up with someone older and at least semi put-together, so things were looking pretty dire for Matt and his pathetic little crush.

They would walk into Matt's own home, in sharp leather loafers or killer heels, just to ruin Matt's life a little bit. They always smelled too expensive for the space and they always clashed with the value-deal furniture as they would rush off to the nearest flat surface and nestle themselves between Foggy’s legs.

Foggy would always gush about his dates beforehand, so Matt could make himself appropriately scarce.

Sometimes, though, it didn’t work out.

On the first Thursday of Matt’s second fall semester, the light clicked on in the living room at around 11pm and some wine-warm bodies crashed into the place, kissing wetly along the walls, collapsing on the couch for a few seconds and shedding outer layers, making their way slowly to Foggy’s room.

Matt was supposed to be asleep, but he was reviewing his notes. If he wanted to get into law school, he’d have to get grades worthy of scholarships.

Foggy, with his moaning, was not helping the case.

“You sure he’s asleep?” a feminine voice whispered, mere inches away from Matt, just on the other side of a wall.

“Probably,” Foggy shrugged. He nipped at some exposed skin, eliciting a giggle from his companion. “He’s a good kid. Real straight and narrow.” He brushed a hand under her blouse and she shrieked in delight. Foggy met her mouth in response. “We should still try to be quiet though. He’s got sensitive ears and I don’t want to traumatize the guy.”

“You’re a good kid, too,” she said, chuckling as she shrugged out of her shirt.

  
“Thanks, professor,” Foggy said to the sound of a zipper coming undone. His voice was low and dark and sultry. Matt shivered and closed his laptop, shuffling between his sheets.

She groaned affectionately and brushed Foggy’s hair out of his face. “God, I get enough of that out of my students. Please, call me Liv.”

“I can’t help it! I love it when people are smarter than me. Talk to me about science things again!”

She laughed at him. “It’s molecular engineering, nuclear physics, blah blah blah. Very boring,” she said, pulling down Foggy’s boxer briefs and dragging him onto her lap. “I’d love to have you as a student, though. Half of mine fall asleep by the second half of lecture.” She kissed him on the neck. Matt tried to plug his ears. “Though, if this is your reaction, I feel there may be other obstacles to your learning.”

“No, ma’am. I can be very alert,” Foggy panted. Matt shoved a pillow into his face and fought the urge to scream.

“Evidently so,” she teased, stroking Foggy, slow and deliberate. “You’re cute, Nelson.”

They continued into the night, and Matt tried in vain to fall asleep. She left quietly by 1am, thanking Foggy with a kiss to his forehead. Foggy fell asleep almost immediately, hot and sated. Matt, on the other hand, straining at his own waistband, had never been more tense.

-

On a day in the winter of Matt’s third year, Foggy brought home some grocery store cupcakes.

“What’s the occasion?” Matt asked when he heard the crinkling plastic. Foggy opened up the package with a flourish and the chemical-sweet smell hit Matt full force. Red velvet, Matt’s favourite machine-made kind.

“I just got back from the registrar!” Foggy explained, carefully placing the container on Matt’s lap, on top of the book that he had been reading. “Guess who’s finally graduating?”

Matt smiled at him, though he felt, suddenly, like the floor was collapsing under him. He wasn’t equipped for change. Foggy was moving on with his life.

“Congratulations, Foggy,” he said instead. He took one of the cupcakes and carefully peeled the paper before taking a bite. He chewed morosely.

“Got some icing on your nose there, little duck,” Foggy said, reaching out to wipe it off for him. Foggy licked off the cream from his finger and Matt felt his face grow hot with embarrassment. “What’s with the face?” Foggy sat down beside him. With a determined arm, he reached over to Matt’s lap and grabbed a cupcake for himself.

“I guess I’m just gonna miss having you around,” Matt admitted, feeling small all of a sudden.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere,” Foggy said. “I’m just graduating. We put a lot of work into this little home. I’m gonna live here until you kick me out, buddy.” His breath tasted like sugar. Matt smiled.

Not likely to happen. “Yeah?” Matt sounded too hopeful.

“Of course! We’re still studying for our LSATs together and we’re definitely going to keep taco Tuesdays and I’ll find work so I can bring home the bacon during my gap year. We didn’t even any classes together, so it won’t be that different. Promise.”

Matt smiled to himself and took another heavenly bite of the cupcake. “Are you sure you don’t wanna go do things ahead of me?”

“Are you kidding, Matty?” Foggy said. “I’ve waited this long to get my life together. I’ll wait for you. I promise.”


	2. Chapter 2

In the late spring of 2020, Foggy Nelson uncapped an astringent red marker and drew a squeaky "x" on the calendar like he did every morning since he started losing his mind because his best friend was the Daredevil. The date was August 26. In the back of his mind, he registered that this marked the fifteenth year of his knowing Matt Murdock. For a second, he almost let himself wonder if Matt knew, but a draft rolled in through his open window and blew the thought away.

The nights were getting colder. He would have to start closing windows at night, now. He liked to keep them open for easy access if Matt ever decides to visit, but he alas, the snow would be upon them soon.

Foggy tried to stretch every morning. He was aging into a graceful man in his late thirties now and his body was not like it once was. In his youth, he had thought himself invincible, he had wanted a spouse, he valued the lump sum inheritance waiting for him upon graduation. Now, having witnessed the death of too many loved ones, having beaten cancer, having been married and separated, and being piss poor and neck deep in pro bono labour, he valued these things less than he used to.

He relished the little things. He had good coffee, which he now took black. He had underwear in natural and breathable fibres. He watered his houseplants to the early morning radio. He had a balcony where he could watch New York's skyline come to life. And even through everything, he had Matt.

Foggy was never very religious, but sometimes, with Matt, he almost believed in a God. One with a sense of humor. There was no trial in his life that Matt didn't either start or pull Foggy out of. Oftentimes, it was both. Only a cruel God would keep dragging them together Only a cruel God would strengthen Foggy’s love for his friend, regardless.

He picked up a small cake from the local Japanese bakery on the way to work. He got Dina at the till to write out words in bright red icing, even though Matt wouldn't be able to appreciate the flowery font. It made Foggy happy to see it.

"Happy anniversary, Mr. Nelson," the teenager chirped. "I wasn't aware you were married!"

"Only a little," Foggy said, smiling a little at himself. It didn't feel like much of a lie. "Thanks, Dina. Have a nice day!"

"Will do!"

He walked into the office like any other day and plopped the cake down at Matt's desk. Karen was doing some huge project in Wakanda, reporting on some trade negotiations and the office was much emptier for it.

"Is it some sort of occasion?" Matt asked. His face twisted as if trying to remember something he might have missed. He was injury-free today, Foggy noted, save for some really chapped lips and hands. Foggy covertly moved some objects around on Matt's desk. Unopened packages of hand cream and chapstick in a small container of goodies Matt never touched but kept on the corner of his desk. Foggy dug around the other contents. Some aspirin, some band-aids, ear plugs. All still pristine and untouched.

"No, I just wanted some cake today, and the blueberries are freshest in the morning," Foggy said with a shrug. He rummaged through the bag and brought out two plastic forks.

"You shouldn't be eating so much sugar on a whim," Matt said, scooping up a soft buttercream mountain and putting it in his mouth.

Foggy rolled his eyes. "It's fine one in a while. I thought we were done talking about my weight."

"It's not that." Matt cut through the cake and prepared a hefty forkful. He smudged the icing message. "I think you should be taking care of your health, is all."

"Why? Should I be seeing a doctor?" Foggy asked, growing genuinely concerned. Matt could sometimes smell illness, and it was pretty handy for people whose hospital bills can dictate whether they have a roof over their heads.

Matt squirmed. "Nothing immediately, no. But you're almost forty, Fogs. It's not unheard of to start making some choices around this age. Lord knows you're already a stress case."

Foggy snorted. "And whose fault is that?" He said. Then, he backed down because Matt was already starting to get that guilty look about his face. "Listen, Matty. I can start looking after myself more if it makes you feel any better. But the same goes for you, pal. You're getting on in years, too."

Matt frowned, eating some more cake. "I'm in my prime."

-

Foggy turned 40 on a humble February day and he spent time cooking a delicate pineapple salmon for himself. He settled his old bones at the dinner table and ate with the news on, watching a report on the Daredevil. That night, he was stopping a shoot out at some gala. The witnesses seemed grateful, at least.

-

Matt turned 36 and didn't even notice it. In fact, he was out, dealing with some corrupt police drug ring or other. Foggy snuck onto Matt’s house to clean it, top to bottom, and he restocked the fridge with Matt's favourite fruits and snacks. He sat down heavily and texted him a brief "happy birthday, buddy. stay safe." before heading back home.

-

They moved on from Nelson and Murdock. Foggy got a nice space at the DA's office with a gorgeous view and Matt decided to pursue parole.

It was initially difficult to imagine, Matt being an officer of the law. Matt got used to it eventually and they still spent a lot of their free time together. The problem was that they didn't have a lot of free time.

"What's this?" Foggy asked one day, when they were sharing lunch between meetings. Matt had slid a small black box towards him. Foggy opened it.

"A key," Matt said, stirring his cup of coffee nervously.

"I already have the spare to your place." Foggy's brows knit together, trying to parse out the puzzle of a box in front of him.

"It's more of a gesture," Matt explained. "I want you to move in with me."

Foggy nodded, as if he understood. "Why?"

Matt sighed and leaned back in his seat. Apparently, communication was a burden. "I miss you, Fogs. We don't keep secrets much anymore but I want to know you're okay all the time."

"And if I want to bring someone home?" He questioned. "You live in a one bedroom."

"That's the other thing. I was thinking maybe you and I," Matt started. He hesitated.

"You and I…?" prompted Foggy.

Matt looked even less comfortable. "That we could maybe-"

"Yes?"

"Start something?" Matt finished just as vaguely.

"Like a  _ something _ something?" Foggy tried to clarify.

"Would you be interested in a something something?" Matt's voice was small and shier than Foggy could remember.

Foggy considered it for a moment. They  _ had _ been together for a long while, and at this point it might be the most logical move. Still, there were a few points to address.

"Would  _ you _ be interested? I didn't know you were into," Foggy said, then gestured vaguely at himself.

"I am," Matt said definitively, gravely, hopefully. "I know I'm not really your type, but I thought that I could maybe convince you? A trial period, as it were."

Foggy stared at him. Because what? "What?" Foggy said.

"Just say 'no,' if you aren't into it." Matt tried to smile, but his eyebrows were doing something pathetic and sad.

"No," Foggy whispered, still in shock. He was processing some things.

"Alright, it's done then. We can forget this all happened." Matt frowned, embarrassed, and made a grab for the box in front of Foggy. Foggy caught his hand and laced their fingers together firmly.

"No, Matt. I mean, what makes you think you're not my type?"

Matt sighed, started to mouth some words before thinking better of it.

"You can't not have noticed you have a type."

"And what do you think that type is?"

"You've only ever dated older people, I guess? Mature people with high earning careers and clever minds?" Matt tried.

Except, no. That wasn’t what Foggy looked for in a partner. That was all he ever wanted. A partner. "No, Matt,” he shook his head. “It's the stability. The idea of something happy and sustainable. Someone who might want to settle down."

"Oh," Matt said. He still looked confused.

"You're my oldest friend. The most stable relationship I've ever had-"

"I don't know if that's how I'd categorize it."

"Regardless, we've been through a lot together, and at the end of it, it's always been you and me." Foggy gave Matt's hand an amicable squeeze and let the words hang between them. He watched on as Matt's face went on a little journey of dawning revelation.

"Oh,” Matt said.

Foggy smiled at him. "So, if you'll have me, do you want to start something?"

-

Things got easier because no matter how hard things got, no matter how little they saw of each other on the day to day, they came home to each other and crawled into their little hole together.

-

Matt Murdock wasn't a very sociable man. At least, no one ever thought he was. So it was a wonder to see him about the room, braggadociously dragging Foggy around on his arm to present him like some prized pet. He had been doing it the entire night to every single guest at the party.

"Happy silver," a young politician said lifting her glass to toast them. Marci's daughter, already a fine, educated woman, was driven. She had the fiery sort of eyes, just like her mother. She seemed too sensible for a venue like this. A young Spider-Man was hanging upside-down from the ceiling, and a few older Spider-Men were urging him down.

"Thank you," Matt smiled widely, creasing his deep-set smile lines. His hair was so gray now, and still, he was so handsome. "I really lucked out with this one, y'know?"

"I'm sure," the young woman, Kana, said, dryly drinking her champagne.

"He used to date your mother, you know? They almost got married." Matt was also quite drunk. "But I scared her off. Wanna know how?”

She looked to Foggy with wide, panicked eyes. She probably wanted to be anywhere else.

"Matty, be respectful," Foggy said sternly.

"No, I gotta tell 'er about when I told Marci about my fisticuffs," Matt pouted.

"You threatened Marci?" Foggy was appalled. It was news to him.

"She was being all possessive," Matt explained.

"She was my girlfriend." He sighed. Matt was so stupid. "Kana, if you find your mother lurking about, please tell her we're both very sorry."

"She knows," she said plainly. She clapped Foggy on the shoulder and sauntered off to enjoy the party. "See you around, Mr. Nelson."

Foggy smiled down at her and watched her go. He plopped the both of them down on some seats by the buffet and coaxed a glass of water into Matt's sluggish hands.

"Thanks, honey," Matt said, downing the whole thing in one go. "I love you, you know."

"I know." Foggy rolled his eyes and petted Matt's thigh.

Matt frowned at him. "Not gonna say it back?"

"No, you're a dork." Foggy kissed Matt's cheek anyway.

"A bully! You're just some two-bit bully preying on the weak and pretty!"

“Matt, you’re 63. You can’t call yourself pretty anymore,” chided Foggy.

Matt frowned at him. “I’m young and very pretty.”

“No, you’re old and drunk and very in love with me,” Foggy corrected.

“ _ You’re _ old and drunk,” he shot back, giggling and fiddling with Foggy’s ring as it embraced Foggy’s wrinkled finger. “And you love  _ me _ .”

Foggy sighed. And collected his husband in his old and besotted arms. “I’m old, not very drunk, and I do love you. Dork.”

He caught Marci’s eyes from across the room and she winked at him. Slowly, tauntingly, she raised her champagne flute. “Everyone, I’d like to propose a toast. To the grossest couple we know!” she said, rather loudly, amusement in her eyes.

“Hear, hear!” the room cheered back.

“Hear, hear,” Foggy agreed full-heartedly. Matt took his hand and brought it to his lips.

**Author's Note:**

> foggy fucks doc ock yes


End file.
